


Nox Aeternum

by Tashlen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Absent-minded Inquisitor, Dark Council - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Gizkas, Multi, Other, Sith Holocron, Sith Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:06:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9243284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashlen/pseuds/Tashlen
Summary: A collection of vignettes and stories about Melisande, Darth Nox, member of the Dark Council and head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. Bookish, studious and more than a little bit absent-minded, Melisande is frequently underestimated, a situation that she encourages at every possible opportunity.





	1. The Social Lives of Gizkas

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew that gizkas were so interesting? Nox, that's who.

“DARTH NOX!” Darth Marr's thunderous bellow echoed down the hallway towards the office, preceding the prodigiously armored man himself by not more than a few moments.

A clawed hand with lethally huge talons making up the three fingers carefully tapped the shoulder of the diminutive woman sitting in the chair. Melisande looked up slowly from the ancient texts littering her desk, one gloved finger marking her place. “Hmm? Is it time to eat?”

 _“He is coming, little Sith, one of your Council brethren,”_ Khem replied in his own language, towering over his mistress protectively.

“Oh. OH. The meeting. Slipped my mind completely.” 

For a moment, she even looked abashed, but then the blonde head dipped down, eyes dropping slowly back to the text as Marr strode into the room, very clearly irritated despite the fact that one could not read his face through the ever-present mask. “Nox! The least you could do is answer your holo, or your comm. If I thought sending actual handwritten notes carried by trained gizkas would make a difference, I'd try that. You cannot keep skipping these meetings!”

“I'm not sure that'd be a very efficient use of time and effort.”

“... attending the meetings?” Marr asked, abruptly feeling a little bit unsure that they were having the same conversation.

“The gizkas. Too easily distracted. I read a paper the other day... where did I put that? Is it over there, Khem? No, not that pile. That one. Or maybe the one over there.” Marr watched incredulously as the little blonde Inquisitor pointed at one pile of datapads, then another, and the huge Dashade assassin that was her constant companion picked through them with hands that were obviously -not- intended for fishing through piles of computer tablets. “Anyway, gizkas. It was a treatise on their hunting methodology, and their process of selecting the best territories, and it was quite interesting in the details about their learning ability..” 

She stuck a writing utensil in the massive, braid-wreathed, coiled bun pinned atop her head, and it promptly disappeared into the piled golden strands. Darth Marr found himself wondering idly how many writing implements vanished in that exact way on a daily basis. She really did have a lot of hair for such a small creature. Her voice was sweet and very melodious, and so quiet that Marr almost had to strain to hear her. He abruptly realized that he'd been listening to her go on about gizka social behavior for nearly twenty minutes.

“Nox. Nox. NOX!!” 

Blue eyes lifted rapidly to his face, blinking owlishly, and he realized she'd forgotten he was even there. She'd been talking to herself and that behemoth she referred to as Khem Val about the stupid gizkas, not even to him. Marr sighed expansively, crossing his arms across his broad chest. 

“The meeting!” she announced triumphantly, intent on proving that she was paying attention to his concerns. “I missed it. I do apologize, Marr. An acolyte found a very exciting piece of an ancient puzzle that I've been studying for some time, and.... “ It was a little bit amazing how many emotions Marr could communicate with just the tap of his fingers on his folded arms, Melisande acknowledged admiringly. “Sorry. I was doing it again. Please, continue.”

“You need to attend the meetings with the rest of the Dark Council. It's understandable to miss them occasionally. We all have business to take care of, and a great many things taking up our time. But...” Marr could not believe it. Nox had started reading the worn parchment in front of her again right in the middle of his lecture. He looked at Khem, and the huge creature shrugged one massive shoulder as if to say _What can you do?_

Khem's claw tapped her on the shoulder again, and Melisande looked up automatically. “Marr, didn't we JUST talk about this? I said I'd be at the next meeting. At least, I thought I did. If not, consider it said.” 

“We are talking about it right now, Nox, and you stopped listening and started reading that blasted codex mid-sentence!”

Again, there was an owlish blink of the blue eyes. “Good point, Darth Marr. Excellently stated. You are so correct. My apologies.” One gloved hand patted blindly around on the desk, and she frowned. “I had a …. where did I put...” Khem patiently fished the recently vanished stylus from her hair with careful claws, and handed it to her without a word. “Oh, exactly so. Thank you, Khem. Now. Look, Marr, I'm making a note. Right here on this datap... no, not this one. Right here on THIS datap... not this one either. Khem, hand me -that- datapad. Alright, right here on THIS datapad, which I will -not- lose under any circumstances, I am making a note. Watch. Council Meeting - DO NOT BE LATE. See the caps? It'll definitely remind me how important this is.” She smiled at him cheerfully, and he sighed again, accepting that this was absolutely as good as it was going to get.

Turning his attention to her giant guardian, Darth Marr said pointedly, “I hope you can try to impress upon her the necessity of arriving in time for the meeting.” In response, Khem made a noise that was probably also a stand in for laughter but mostly sounded like mockery, and Marr simply turned on a heel and left. Somehow, he knew this would not be the last time he'd have to chase down Darth Nox in order to get her nose out of her work.

As he exited into the adjoining hallway, he could hear her pleased voice chirping, “Ah! Here's that paper about the gizkas! Khem, why don't you go and get Marr so he can borrow it. There's a whole subsection on the courtship rituals of the red-backed variety...” His steps hastened to a near-unseemly jog, and he didn't even bother to lie to himself about the reason he was fleeing so quickly. That woman was a tiny blonde menace.


	2. Once More, With Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Nox attends a Dark Council meeting. She also tone-polices Marr and does some light burglary, and plans a vacation.

Khem Val adjusted the angle of the small mirror downwards, aiming it at his diminutive Lord's head so that she could see herself. Gloved hands wound a thick braid around the outside of her bun, tucking the end underneath and pinning it with several industrial sized pins. She turned her head that way and this, checking to see that everything was neat, and patted Khem's muscular forearm in gratitude. 

The long-forgotten, and somewhat stressed out acolyte that Darth Marr had sent to retrieve Melisande for the Council meeting stood waiting in the doorway of her office, all but tapping his foot. “My lord, if you don't mind.. we should really be going.” 

“Of course, of course. I'll be right along, just a moment.”

He'd heard variations on this excuse nearly ten times now, and was starting to creatively picture his demise at the hands of a very angry Marr when suddenly Darth Nox was standing beside him expectantly, with her enormously intimidating Dashade companion looming over them both. He jumped in surprise and darted out the door, heading towards the Council chambers. 

Halfway there, he realized that he hadn't heard her chatting to the taciturn Khem Val in some time. Glancing behind him, he realized that she had vanished somewhere between her rooms and here. BOTH of them had vanished. How had he managed to lose a nearly eight foot tall monster? 

Five minutes later, he discovered them both in an empty office in one of the side hallways. Nox was sitting perched in the Dashade's clawed hands, and he was holding her up to a high wall shelf while she fished through the holocrons and datapads stored on it. “My -lord-, I really must ask you to stay with me. We're already late! Please... could you.. do.. this, whatever it is that you're doing... later?”

“Of course not. The owner could be back here by then,” she replied, clearly amused by the idea of actually asking for the things she was making off with. “Not to worry, I'll bring them back. Eventually.” 

“Are you... you're not stealing those things, are you?” the acolyte sputtered, scandalized.

“It's borrowing. And it's for my job, so I can hardly be considered to be stealing so much as re-distributing knowledge into the proper office space. To the left, Khem.” She tucked another holocron into her robes, and handed a datapad to Khem, who somehow managed to keep her aloft with one hand while accepting the datapad in the other. 

Finally, her feet back on the floor and all her ill-gotten gains hidden in various pockets in her robe and one or two apparently concealed somewhere in the Dashade's loincloth, Darth Nox was willing to be underway again. The acolyte didn't take his eyes off them until the Council door, and even then, he waited until they were inside to breathe a very loud sigh of relief that this thankless and annoying task was finished.

“I see you decided to grace us with your presence, Nox.” Ravage's perpetually sour voice rang out first as Melisande crossed the chamber to her seat. Khem took up a position behind her chair, his arms crossed and an inscrutable expression on his alien features.

“You would be SO much more enjoyable to be around if you smiled once in awhile, Ravage,” she returned sweetly, turning sideways in her chair so she could hang her legs over the arm. Her feet kicked back and forth idly, and she tapped on a datapad ensconsed in her robe-swathed lap. “Forgive me for being a little late. I was in the middle of a translation. Please continue.”

Darth Marr began updating the council on the war front, delving into details on troop movements, losses, advances. It was, to put it mildly, astonishingly dull information, and his delivery was not helping to keep Melisande from falling asleep and drooling on the shoulder of her robe. 

“Could I interrupt for just a moment, Marr?” she piped up cheerfully. Darth Marr's recitation paused, and even with his concealing mask, she could feel his incredulous expression from across the room. “Maybe if you read it in a little bit more of an upbeat way, the news wouldn't feel so mind-numbing.”

Vowrawn snickered rudely. His seat was next to hers, and he'd realized very quickly that the best meetings were the ones that she chose to attend, and so he planned his trips accordingly with the knowledge that she skipped at least one or two before attending another. He had no proof, but was fairly sure that the diminutive Inquisitor only did it so she could force Marr to chase her down wherever she currently was pursuing her obscure knowledge.

“Listen, Marr. Like this.” She stood up on her chair, reasoning that this made her ever so slightly taller than Marr was while he was seated. Spreading her arms theatrically, she cheerfully parroted all the troop notes right back at the room, her voice bouncy and light, making the somewhat negative progress in the war sound... oddly upbeat. “You see? You try it now.”

There was a long silence in the cavernous chamber, and all the council members seemed comically unsure whether to look at each other or at Nox, still perched on her seat like an animated black-clad little bird of paradise. They did, however, seem unified in their complete unwillingness to look at Darth Marr.

Vowrawn's shoulders were shaking rather obviously, though he had managed to put a datapad in front of his face to hide the fact that he was mere moments away from guffawing aloud.

The silence drew out uncomfortably for a little longer, and then suddenly, Marr began to speak again. To everyone's shock (except Melisande, who looked disturbingly smug), his usual semi-monotone delivery featured some variation in tone, and once something that could almost have been considered an exclamatory statement. 

Sinking back down in her seat, Melisande crossed her legs in her robes, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She fixed her blue eyes on Marr, giving him what presumably were intended to be encouraging smiles, until he finished. At which point, she enthusiastically clapped for him. Astonishingly, Marr chuckled, his deep voice carrying in the chamber. “Yes, yes, you've made your point, Nox. Now, regale us with the news of your Silencer fleet's accomplishments, so we can keep this meeting moving. I'm sure everyone here has things they'd rather be doing.”

Her gloved fingers tapped on her datapad, bringing up the information she needed, and the rest of the meeting went on without many more issues, beyond one very furious shouting match between Ravage and two other Council members, which happened so often that Melisande privately thought it should just be scheduled in like every other topic they covered.

The moment that the meeting was over, she was up and trotting hastily across the chamber to keep up with Marr's much larger stride as he headed for the door. “You did SO well. I was quite diverted. I didn't fall asleep ONCE, Marr. Not once. That's … er, not that you're boring, of course. It's just that your delivery is a little flat. Did you read the treatise on gizkas? I sent it to you days ago. I know you received it.”

Darth Marr's shoulders hunched inwards ever so slightly, but he said forcefully, “Nox, I cannot possibly read all the silly things you send me. I'd have no time to do my work, and quite frankly I'm not sure how you have time to do -yours- sometimes.” 

“Funny you should mention that....”

Marr froze, feeling the obsessively sunshine-y jaws of Nox's trap slam shut suddenly around him. He fought back the urge to groan. He had walked right into.. whatever disastrous thing that this was. “I do NOT have time to visit any of your dig sites.”

“Make time. You need to come with me out to Rishi, and it's not a dig, I swear. I've had a project out there.. well, technically it was Thanaton's project, but now it's mine because he's dead, and I made it work. Technically, my researcher made it work, but my unique physiology was a necessary component...”

She was bouncing on her heels while rattling onwards about alien technology and solar cycles and finally Marr just surrendered rather than spend the next four hours wondering why he hadn't just stepped right over her and kept going. “Fine, Nox. I will give you the details.”

Nox smiled brilliantly at him, and he looked at her from behind the concealing mask, marveling a little as he often did that she was one of the best and most reliable members of the council when it came to his goals. She might mock him and tease him, but she supported him with tenacious vehemence against the other council members without a thought, as well. Resting a heavily gauntleted hand on her shoulder briefly, Marr took his leave, already thinking of how he would work in a trip to distant Rishi.

Melisande seized Khem's clawed hand and smiled slyly up at him. “Come on. Let's get our little prizes back to my office, and then we need to contact Veijel and let him know that we're coming to Rishi. Marr said yes!”


	3. Four Jawas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rishi acquires a pirate queen and a snotty pile of Ortolans. Also known as Darth Nox and Darth Marr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. I feel like I should apologize. But I'm having fun.

His arrival on Rishi was kept as low key as possible, and thus Marr landed with only a pair of guards trailing after him as he made his way to the same safehouse where he had met with Satele Shan and Melisande in order to fight against Revan. 

The pirate town was unruly and lawless as always, but Darth Marr's obviously forbidding demeanor did much to make certain he was left unmolested by any of the opportunistic denizens. All, that is, except for the stealthy little thief who poked him in the back with something as he entered the hallway to the safehouse. “Your money or your life, big guy!” 

His guards, startled by the abrupt appearance of the small, cloak-clad person pressed close against their lord's massive back, drew their blaster rifles, aiming them at the thief (and thus by default also at Marr).

“I would prefer that you did not shoot ME as well as...” Marr began, only to be interrupted by a very familiar peal of feminine laughter. “Nox, you are an idiot. What if they'd shot you?”

“They'd have shot you too, so we'd both be getting some pirate-quality kolto injections. I'm sure they're just as good as our sterile, quality-controlled Empire kolto would be, don't you agree?” she replied, taking off the heavy, concealing cloak with a theatrical swirl, flipping it at Marr who caught it with an easy snatch of one hand. 

He looked down at her in surprise, taking in her clothing. “You look...”

“Marvelous? Glorious? Neatly put together? Surprisingly color-coordinated?” Melisande supplied helpfully, sticking out one hip and resting one hand on it, striking an incredibly silly pose. Her legs were encased in nearly painted-on red breeches and thigh high black leather boots with subtle armor incorporated into them. Her belt was fitted with a hook for the hilt of her dualsaber - an elegant, chased silver two-handed hilt that hung alongside one thigh. A fitted, high-necked crimson, black, and gold tunic left little to the imagination, the sleeves loose and embroidered just below the elbow, where they were tucked into her more typical soft silk gloves. The most astonishing part of this piratical ensemble was the usually rigidly restrained blonde hair, which was left to tumble down her back, ending past her hips. 

She looked like a completely different person than the black robe-clad, scholarly little creature she was in Kaas City or on Korriban, and Marr realized he'd been staring at her in awkward silence for just a little bit too long. “Different,” he finished a trifle lamely, striving to regain the upper hand and his dignity. “At any rate, we should meet with your agent here. I cannot remain here in this system for too long with so many vital battles going on.”

“Far be it from me to keep you from the battlefield, Marr. I can't imagine that anything gets done without you to loom over it threateningly.” She smiled up at him, her blue eyes amused, and she patted him on the arm with one lightly gloved hand. 

“Why do you always wear gloves?” he asked without thinking, looking at her slender fingers where they rested on his armored forearm.

“Why do you always wear... all of that?” Melisande retorted sassily, waving her other hand at him in an all-encompassing gesture that took him in from head to toe. “Are you actually a Hutt under there? You can tell me. It'll be our secret. I might tell Vowrawn, but other than that, it'll be our secret. Also I'll tell Khem, but I'm his only friend, so I believe that keeps it a closed loop. Are you a Gand? Are you a really muscular, tall Gand? Are you a Jawa? Are you a pile of four Jawas standing on each other's shoulders?”

Marr gaped at her, inordinately grateful for his mask's concealment so that she could not see the look on his face. “I am not a Hutt. Or a Gand.”

“So it's the Jawas, then.” The woman had the audacity to sound smugly pleased, as if she had confirmed some long-held belief.

“I am NOT a pile of Jawas!” 

He could hear his two guards making choked little snorts behind him, and turned to level a glare at them that silenced the unlucky men instantly. But no level of intimidation seemed to ever work on Nox, and she was laughing so hard that she had her hands on her knees, bent over, that ridiculous river of hair nearly brushing the ground. 

“Nox,” Darth Marr ground out between clenched teeth, trying not to let her hear any of the amusement he felt watching her hilarity at his expense. “You are wasting time. Take me to your researcher, or I am going to take the closest shuttle off this dirtball of a planet and leave you here to finish your transformation into a second-rate pirate queen.”

He was rewarded by a shocked gasp, and she straightened instantly, looking gravely offended. “Second-rate?? SECOND-RATE? I'm going to tell Ravage that you're a Gen'dai. Or maybe a Nikto.” The inquisitor marched off through the narrow, cobbled-together boardwalk, and Marr had to hurry to catch up to her, his chastened guards trotting behind him. He could hear her fuming up ahead, and caught a snippet of a profanity laced sentence ending in “probably a snotty little pile of Ortolans in a hermetically sealed suit of armor!”

This time he let himself laugh at the visual, and jogged fast enough to catch up with Nox, keeping pace with her all the way to the door of her researcher's laboratory on the outer edges of the pirate town.


	4. Orobird Feathers Make Great Plumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Nox and Darth Marr visit her research facility on Rishi and then head out to examine the machines that she inherited after killing Thanaton.

Veijel and Melisande were bent over his desk together, and the little Inquisitor was making corrections in calculations with an impatient haste. “There, now.. I need to see some significant results in the next month, or I'm going to find someone who can get me the results that I want. I have faith in your knowledge on these matters, Veijel, but do not disappoint me.” 

Darth Marr watched this exchange with interest, noting that his own looming presence hadn't seemed to unnerve the Sith researcher nearly as much as Melisande's thinly veiled threat. The bumbling intellectual that he knew from Korriban and Dromund Kaas seemed to be just another personality to wear, like her playful lady pirate mask, and now the dangerous Inquisitor. He felt curious as he watched her finish several complex notations while translating a section of text whether all of those personas, or none of them, were the real thing. 

“Now, Marr, let's let Veijel get back to work, because he has -much- to do,” Nox said jauntily, fixing Lord Veijel with a narrow-eyed, cold glare that was the antithesis of her cheerful tone. “He cannot secure my legacy of immortality with us both distracting him. Come, I'd like to show you the devices.”

As they exited the building, Darth Marr put a hand on Nox's shoulder to stop her forward motion for a moment, noting with amusement how small she was in comparison to himself. “Immortality is what you're pursuing with this expensive venture, but you haven't made it very clear why it's only useful to you. I'm sure we could find quite a bit more support for this if it could be utilized on more of our significant members.” 

She stopped at his brief touch and glanced up at him, offering a dazzling smile. “I'm certain I could entice Veijel to see if the technology could be adapted, but... whatever or whomever built it originally is unknown to us. We have ideas, but no proof as of yet. Could we copy the devices? Probably so. But would they work their cellular regeneration on, say.. you? I can't really begin to guess. My path, the things I have done, notably my experience with a machine on Belsavis that saved me from being killed by the spirits I was controlling; those are the reasons why the technology seems to recognize me, or be compatible with me. It's very possible that without whatever was done to me, nothing would happen. Or, also.. that it could injure, or kill you.” She wrinkled her nose a little, the smile fading. “I'm really not sure. And I can't redirect Veijel at the present time without considerably more resources, so it's a bit of a conundrum. Regardless, I would rather test such a possibility on Ravage. Ideally without his knowledge. Not you.”

Marr chuckled, a low bass rumble. “That's not very nice, Nox. But having been stuck with Ravage in council meetings for a much longer time than you have.. not to mention a lot more meetings than you can ever be bothered to attend... I can admit that it's an understandable feeling. He is often very irritating, even to me. I suspect he's contrary just to disagree with people, rather than from genuine disapproval of whatever idea is currently on the table.”

“Oh, he absolutely is. He's a miserable, awful man who likes to make the rest of us miserable too. I'd gift him one of my gizkas but he'd just kill the poor thing, and then I'd have to... be unpleasant to him,” Nox finished lamely, glancing at Darth Marr slyly from the corners of her eyes. “I'm not sure if it's poor form to threaten the life of another Council member to the head of the Council.” 

“It is, Nox. Please don't try to kill Ravage, it would put me in a very difficult position.”

“Because you would want to help me and that is also poor form? I completely understand,” she replied agreeably, making him chuckle. “I shan't turn you into a rebel too, or else we'd all descend into anarchy.”

They took a pair of speeder bikes out to the first site, and Marr examined the device curiously. Her particular Sphere wasn't his area of expertise, and he had to admit, the machine was incredibly complex. 

“It's tempting, isn't it.. the lure of immortality. Talos is concerned that the path will lead to ruin. What would you have done, if you were in my place?” She sat down on the sand, her legs stretched out comfortably in front of her. Tilting her face upwards, and then further upwards, she shielded her eyes with one hand from the bright sunlight, gazing up at him. Rather than make her develop a crick in her neck, Marr crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees. 

“I don't know. I think perhaps that I would have done as you did. You didn't know what was going to happen at first, and so you took a chance and gained time as a result. You have been back since then, and now you know what is being done, or at least, you think you know what is being done.. I would have done the same. I think the thing that would bother me is not knowing who created the devices, and what else they could have made. If they can do this, what other machines are out there?”

She brightened at his question, nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly! That's what I wonder. But so far.. our forays into the Maze have been fruitless in discovering further evidence about the creators.”

Darth Marr found himself in the strange position of realizing that he'd smiled more today than he had in a very long time. He actually enjoyed this odd friendship, and Nox's relentlessly cheerful behavior. “Perhaps a few more research vessels can be requisitioned for your use, Nox. Let me look into it, and I will see what can be done. You were right to bring me here, and your trust in letting me see your work is.. a pleasant surprise.”

“Your ability to be interesting is a pleasant surprise too, Marr. You're so stodgy in the Council meetings,” she complained. The twinkle of humor in her blue eyes made the words into just another joke, and so he took no offense at them. “I can't even make you shout at me very often the way Ravage does.” 

“Ravage is going to keel over in his chair sometime from apoplexy thanks to you, Nox. Do try not to provoke him quite so often, if you can avoid it. I'm well aware that is difficult to do, though. Consider it a request, not an order.”

“I did consider taking him out here and testing the machines on him. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't kill him. Not .. exactly, anyway.” She wrinkled her nose in consideration, eyeing the machine with a jaundiced expression. “I can't be sure, actually.”

“I do still require Ravage, Nox,” he said quellingly, and she smiled irrepressibly at him, her diminutive form looking so deceptively harmless as she sat sprawled comfortably in the sand as if they were on a holiday. For a moment, Marr found himself wonder what sort of places she found restful, if any. Scholars were such odd creatures... Then he shook his head, brushing off the stray thought. 

“Call me Melisande, if you'd like. I don't mind Nox, or Darth Nox, or … similar monikers. They -are- my name too. But my real name is Melisande, and Meli or Elisa work too.”

“Elisa,” Darth Marr repeated, bemused. "It suits you."

She nodded. “It's been a long time since anyone called me that, but.. I think I could remember to respond to it. If you wanted.”

He smiled behind the mask, recognizing what a gesture of trust this was, as much as the one she'd displayed in taking him out here to see the machines, which was augmented enormously by her admission of what the machines seemed to do for her lifespan. It was a huge piece of information and he knew she was aware that he could use it against her, or use it for leverage. Most Sith would do so without thinking about it. That she seemed to feel he would not was oddly humbling. “Come on, Elisa,” he said after a moment, trying the name out. Her smile, bright as the sun, was plenty of reason to keep using it, he decided. Offering a gloved hand to her, he helped her to her feet, shaking the sand out of her blonde hair from where it had sat on the warm beach. “We should get back.”

They parted ways at the spaceport, such as it was on this little backwater planet. It wasn't until Marr was aboard his own ship that he realized she had sent him some of her research on the builders of the machines, and how they functioned. Not all of it, by any means, and not enough to duplicate the machines. But still, it was a surprising decision on her part.

She'd also sent him a completely ridiculous looking pirate hat with a bright blue feather from an orobird stuck in the hat band. That was, he admitted, much more typical of Nox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this one! ;) The other was just eating up all my time.


	5. Obviously It'd Be Ortolans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marr rounds up Nox for a Council meeting.

A hooded form answered the door of Nox's office, a young Lord whose name escaped Marr's memory. “Darth Marr. My Master apologizes for not meeting you herself, but she is somewhat engrossed in a...”

“Translation, I'm sure,” Marr interrupted humorlessly, striding past the robe-clad Inquisitor without waiting for an invitation. “I'm aware of the location of her office from here.”

“My Lord, she is... it's not a translation, it's..” Hastening after the broad, powerful form of the Council member, the Inquisitor stopped short of the door, actually backing up several steps. 

Marr glanced back at him, his mask featureless and hiding the expression on the warrior's face. “She isn't -that- intimidating to you, is she?” Without waiting for an answer, he put a gloved hand on the door handle, opening it. 

There was a muffled boom.

Some very unladylike cursing.

Some masculine cursing, mostly aimed at Nox herself.

Smoke billowed out of the door, and then the massive form of Khem Val appeared amid the smoke, carrying his robe-clad mistress under one arm like a huttball. She dangled in his grip, a long blonde braid trailing halfway to the floor from beneath the hood of her robes, coughing loudly. “I'm fine, Khem. Put me down,” she wheezed, catching sight of Darth Marr leaning against the wall just outside the door, waving smoke away from his masked face. No doubt the filters built into his mask and suit had protected him from the acrid reek of the smoke, she noted irritably. 

Khem solicitously placed her feet on the floor, looming over her protectively, eyeing the other Inquisitor threateningly. He was coughing too, and had pushed back his hood partway, exposing the red and black skin of a Zabrak. “Don't blame me,” he told Khem between hacking coughs. “I told him she was occupied!”

 _“Little Sith, your student should have stopped him from interrupting you. I can..”_ Khem began, but Melisande choked out a refusal, holding up one hand to keep the Dashade still. 

“You can't eat him, Khem. They'll stop letting me have apprentices if you eat them. I've told you that repeatedly and I know you don't want to do all the fetching and carrying around here.” She came over to Darth Marr, reaching up to grip the edge of his mask. Part of her was surprised when he allowed her to pull his head down closer to her eye level so she could press her face close to it and stare into the visor. “-Listen- to my apprentices. They know when I'm in the midst of a very complex ritual that should not be interrupted. What material is this visor made of? I can't see a -thing- inside there. Are you quite sure you're not a pile of Jawas?”

“I apologize for being precipitous with my entrance, Nox.”

“I'm back to Nox, am I? Well.. let me put on a new robe and I'll be ready to go to the meeting.”

“Nox.. You do realize you'll actually be early for this meeting if we leave now, don't you? Ravage might die of the shock.” He followed her down a side hallway, or rather.. followed the giant form of her Dashade down the hallway as he followed Melisande down the hallway into her room. The room that served as her bedchamber while she was on Korriban was unsurprisingly cluttered with datapads, writing utensils, statuary, relics, holocrons. Two red and black gizkas were curled up on the bed, and they hissed at Marr in sleepy protest, receiving pats from their mistress' black gloved hand as she went to dig through a pile of robes. 

"That's worth the annoyance, right there." She shrugged off the smoke-tainted robe and wound her braid up into a crown on her head, pinning it in place with a few heavy duty hairpins. Marr leaned against the doorframe, watching her in silence as she replaced the robe with a fresh one and pulled the hood up over her hair. She paused to pat the gizkas again, murmuring something to them that made both of them chirp back at her, and then the Inquisitor paused in front of Marr, looking up at him curiously. “Ready to go?”

“Certainly, Elisa.” She smiled at him, and Marr chuckled, shaking his head. “You nearly blew me up.”

“You nearly blew ME up. The distinction is relevant, and pretty important.” They headed out into the Academy proper side by side, her Dashade trailing them in silence. “I am going to find out if you're a pile of Jawas someday, Marr. I must know.”

“It's Ortolans,” he replied solemnly, and she started to laugh.


	6. Leave A Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox is invited cordially to share in the festivities on Yavin 4.

_“Little Sith, there is a call for you. It is your Council."_ Khem Val stood solicitously over Melisande's shoulder, holding a bright, focused light in one clawed hand that was aimed at the tablet she was involved in translating. The other hand held her personal holo, and she groped idly at her waist, trying to figure out how the Dashade had ended up with her holo. Her belt was gone, so she must have taken it off at some point. Shaking off the confusion about missing clothing and personal items, she waved a hand idly, dismissing the importance of the call. 

“I don't have a meeting today. They can leave a message. Take one for me, please, Khem.” Her blue eyes focused back on the tablet, and she blinked tiredly, writing the next phrase down in her careful, neat writing. 

Instead of leaving the room to take the call, Khem (who was always immensely literal, a fact she constantly forgot) activated the link while standing next to her, and she pushed his hip firmly with one hand, calmly rotating him slightly away from her so that she would not be visible to the person on the other end. If it was Ravage, that would just lead to shouting and insults, and she wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Ever, really. However, the image that flickered into view was not Ravage. It was Marr's imposing, heavily armored form. For a moment, Marr stared at Khem, and Khem stared implacably back at Marr, and Melisande almost just let the silent impasse go on to see how long it would last.

Filching the holo out of Khem's claws, she sat it on the desk next to the tablet, resuming her writing. “I assume you remember how to talk to -me- at least, Marr, so I will let you tell me what I'm in trouble for today while I finish this translation.”

“Nox,” he began, sounding slightly irritated.. and possibly a tiny bit relieved to be facing her now and not the impassive Khem, “I'm not calling to punish you for anything.”

“How terribly disappointing,” Melisande interrupted with a sly smile, writing some notes.

“.... Nox. Be serious for a moment, if you would,” Marr continued dryly after a moment. “We have discovered the hiding place of the remnants of the Revanites, and I would like you to come out to Yavin 4 and join me there. I could use your expertise, given the location and the unique difficulties that we are likely to face in unraveling the remains of the conspiracy that you were involved in ending on Rishi.” 

“I -am- fairly exceptional among our … colleagues. And I use that term with incredible latitude, especially when it comes to Ravage. What is it exactly that he does? I've never been able to figure it out. Minister of Temper Tantrums? Sphere of Short Fuses? Captain Tedium?” She wrote a few lines slowly, scratching out one version and replacing it with an alternative translation. “So, you need -me- specifically, Marr?”

“Your vanity is impressive even for a Sith, Nox,” Marr responded. “But I would not go so far as to imply that your vanity is not based in fact and accomplishment. Yes, I need you specifically. No one else can do the work that you do. Certainly not Ravage.” Melisande's smile widened in the holo-image, and Marr couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped him at her obvious pleasure in his remark about the universally disliked Council member. “How soon can you get here?”

“I'm nearly finished with this, so.. I suppose I could leave within a few hours.” Reminded suddenly of the conditions in the battle over Rishi, she paused, and then added curiously, “Is the Empire alone in the exploration of Yavin with regards to the Revanites?”

Marr's sudden and expansive silence was expressive, and Melisande sighed hugely, a gesture that was echoed on a larger scale by her Dashade's annoyed sigh from behind her chair. “... Not... exactly, no,” Marr admitted reluctantly. “Grandmaster Shan's fleet is here as well, and I must admit that the logistics of getting such a coalition of forces to work together has proven challenging, and I am hoping that you will have better ways of encouraging some level of unity, Elisa.” The nickname, clearly added in a transparent attempt to sweeten the sour expression on the Inquisitor's face, only barely managed to make a slight dent in Nox's mood.

“Don't Elisa me, Marr. You were going to let me find out when I landed. Inexcusable!”

“Will you come, Nox? It is very likely that this entire enterprise will fail without you.” He didn't even try to soften the flattery this time, and she bristled a little bit, but then made an irritable gesture with one hand, waving it at him rudely. 

“Fine. But I am not there as your subordinate, and I will not be treated as one, Marr. -You- need -me- there. Do not forget it, because I will make sure that you don't.”

“Of course, Nox. You are a power in the Empire, and no one is under any illusions to the contrary, least of all me,” he replied, sounding a little offended. Admittedly, it could have also just been indigestion. It was hard to read emotion from behind that omnipresent mask of his. “Your service to the Empire is beyond question.”

She reached out to disconnect, and Marr breathed a sigh of relief quietly, assuming that she was finished wringing concessions out of him. “I'm bringing my favorite gizka, of course. You may need to hold him for me while I'm working, from time to time. He gets very anxious. See you soon!” she chirped merrily, and the holo disconnected abruptly before he could muster the breath to roar at her. 

“Yavin, Khem! So much to research there.. when we're done averting the crisis and saving the Empire and all of that,” the little Inquisitor sang out, finishing the last line of the translation with a flourish. “File this away, and we'll be on our way.” The holo chimed insistently with a very Marr sort of persistence to it. She ignored it utterly, maliciously amused at the thought of the angry messages the dour warrior would leave after her final sally.

 _“Be careful, little Sith. There is much to be wary of on that moon,”_ Khem warned, handing her the discarded belt, which turned out to have been tucked under the stone tablet she'd been translating the whole time to tip it up to a more visible angle. 

“I'm always careful!” Melisande hopped up from her chair, dislodging the priceless tablet without realizing it. Khem's quick hands snagged the stone tablet in midair, saving it from shattering. 

_“I see that, little Sith,”_ the massive creature grumbled, putting the tablet away in a stasis case with careful claws.


	7. Fermenting Ginx Droppings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox finds some areas of Yavin 4 repulsive. Marr really doesn't care about her numerous objections, as usual. Lana finds Nox difficult. (Because she IS difficult.)

Yavin was a heavily forested moon, humid and swampy in some areas. Some would have noticed the beauty of the Yavin moon and appreciated it, or wanted to explore the heavily overgrown mysteries of the rainforests that shielded nearly all of the surface from aerial view. And some found themselves ignominiously stuck in a very deep patch of mud somewhere in an overgrowth-choked cavern filled with bioluminescent vegetation and slimy fauna.

“KHEM!” Melisande bellowed with a surprising amount of volume coming from such a small person. “I'M STUCK.” Khem Val waded patiently back to fetch his diminutive mistress, dangerously clawed hands wrapping around her robed waist and lifting her (and her mired boots) free from the swampy muck in the cavern. Carrying her patiently to a drier area, the massive Dashade set her back down on solid ground while she examined the ruin of the third pair of boots that had fallen victim to this trip so far. “I'm going to force choke Marr until even his armor turns blue,” the Inquisitor muttered viciously, kicking one foot and flinging gobs of stinking mud against the stone wall of the cave. The threat was hardly the first one she'd offered as this leg of the trip had grown more and more unpleasant, and the fact that her com link was active was probably intentional, judging from the sly little smile that curved her lips when Marr's slightly tense bass response came across the channel.

“I am sure that you will do exactly that, Nox, once you have finished activating all of the sensors.”

“You wanted me to get sucked into the muck out here in this kriffing filth-ridden, forsaken haven for fermenting ginx droppings, Marr!”

“Language, Nox.” His dry remonstration only incensed her further, but as she opened her mouth to snap at him, he said crisply, “Radio silence until you're finished.” 

Furious, she stomped forward, down the winding path through the cavern, emerging back into the sticky air of the rainforest outside. Khem trailed her, his looming presence a deterrent to attack by the local wildlife, though not enough so that the pair avoided it entirely. She was halfway through a nest of the previously maligned ginx when there was a very faint click in her ear, and Lana's velvety voice reached her over the hum of her whirling saber. “This is a private channel, Darth Nox, so you may speak freely as you wish. After you activate this final sensor, there is another thing that you could do, if you wished. I am aware of Darth Marr's wishes that we should try to share information with the Republic whenever possible, but I know that he would also value any information we can gather about them at the same time.”

The crimson saber hissed through the final ginx, severing its large, amphibian head with a disgustingly wet schlocking noise. Deactivating the blade, Melisande knelt and worked for a moment on the sensor, and the node lit up as it went online, transmitting data back to the camp. “I'm listening, Lana. What are you thinking?”

“We can track their communications using the sensor array. I'll walk you through it, if you would like to do it. But of course it is your decision.” The deference in the Sith's voice soothed Melisande's ruffled feathers, and she agreed to the plan, rigging the sensors carefully in accordance with Lana's clear and concise directions. Khem stood over her, protecting his mistress until she was finished with her work. 

“I have some work to do while I'm out here, Lana. I'll return to the camp later, when I'm finished. Tell Marr that the sensor array is at maximum operational status, if you would.”

“Forgive my overstep, Darth Nox, but Darth Marr specifically indicated that he wanted you to return the moment that you were finished with this task..” Lana rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration as the link went dead, disabled in the middle of her sentence by the Inquisitor. “Alright. I can handle this. Surely Darth Marr won't blame me for....”

“For what, Lana Beniko?” Marr's resonant voice came from behind her, and Lana felt her shoulders draw inwards ever so slightly in a protective gesture. She took a breath, forcing herself to straighten, and stood to face the leader of the Empire forces, settling into a loose parade rest position. The bulky armored form of Marr gazed down at her in silence.

“Darth Nox is somewhat out of pocket, at the moment, my lord. Her com link cut out unexpectedly,” Lana answered diplomatically.

“I suspect that you mean it was severed, rather than that it cut out. I am aware of Darth Nox's particular ways, and I knew that bringing her here to such a place would mean tolerating some side trips. You are not at fault. Return to your duties,” Marr told her. If she hadn't known better, and experienced first-hand how humorless Darth Marr was, Lana would have sworn that he sounded a little bit amused.

Late that evening, Nox sauntered into the camp, boots still ruined but dry, and her blue eyes alight with excitement. The enormous Dashade at her side carried a heavy sack that made grinding noises with each movement, as though it were full of stone slabs, which was entirely possible. Marr met her at the entrance to the camp, where he'd been pacing slowly for over an hour. “Nox,” he began, only to be instantly cut off.

“You won't believe what I found! I can't even describe it. I have to show you. Well, perhaps not -you-. No offense, of course, but I'm not sure you'd really understand what I was showing you since it has nothing to do with using a lightsaber to bash things into pieces or talking endlessly about the war effort in a very admirably consistent monotone, however it's Very Important to my research goals, Marr. This will be a huge step in my understanding of several very obscure force rituals! I have to transcribe them and ...”

“NOX!” The thundered name finally silenced the Inquisitor as well as drawing the instant attention of half the camp, and Melisande looked up at him questioningly, her blue eyes wide. Marr could see the coil of her ridiculously long hair starting to slide loose from her hood, and he reached forward before he realized what he was doing, and tucked it back inside carefully. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and then felt immensely foolish having done so behind his mask. “Elisa,” he tried again, more quietly, “I am glad that you've discovered some important artifacts. Despite what you think, I do believe that preserving our history is of value to the Empire.” She brightened visibly, bouncing a little on her damaged, dried out boots, and the leather cracked audibly with the movement, splitting across the balls of her feet. “We have a lot of work to do, here, though. Try to focus on the goal at hand: the defeat of the Revanites and the discovery of whatever force entity is here as well.”

Melisande nodded, but he could see her eyes shifting slightly towards the heavy, oddly shaped bag in the Dashade's massive, clawed hand. “I'm focused, Marr. SO focused. Don't worry. Your problems are my problems. Team Dark Council. I'm just going to put these artifacts away so they don't get damaged, and.. then I'll be ready to go.” 

She seemed to have taken no notice of the late hour, so Marr mildly responded, “It's late. Get some sleep, and meet at the table first thing in the morning so we can discuss our next move with the Republic leaders.” 

“Sleep is my very first priority. Trust me.” Her smile was wide and utterly insincere, but Marr merely sighed and waved her off, watching her humming as she traipsed off in her ruined boots, with her blonde braid escaping her hood to dangle down her side and the hulking Khem Val patiently trailing her with her bag of prizes. A small red and black gizka shot after her, dashing comically through people's legs on his way to his mistress, and Marr shook his head disbelievingly. 

Somehow, everything seemed to rest on the tiny shoulders of that blonde bookworm. The force certainly had a sense of humor.


	8. Predators Are Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild semi-serious chapter appears! Melisande and Lana have a conversation. Khem is annoyed. 
> 
> One has to wonder if Melisande's favorite gizka is sleeping on top of Darth Marr's head.

Engrossed in the prizes she'd acquired, Melisande sat cross-legged on the floor of her tent, examining the carvings and artifacts from the ruins. Khem sat near her, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. She wasn't entirely sure he -did- sleep, but he certainly never did while his mistress was awake. 

Footsteps sounded outside, very softly, and at first, Nox thought that it was just someone passing by until she took a moment to extend her senses, feeling who was outside the tent and their hesitation to risk troubling her. “Come inside,” she said, raising her voice enough to be heard by the person lurking outside in the dark. “I can feel you as clearly as I can hear you shuffling your feet in the grass.”

Lana Beniko's blonde head ducked inside the tent, and the other Sith smiled ruefully in greeting. “I am sorry if I'm interrupting you, Darth Nox, but I could see that you still had a light on and decided to risk stopping by. I realized that I had not taken the time to really greet you properly earlier, with everything that was going on.” She sank down onto her knees, glancing uncertainly at Khem, who glowered back at her silently. 

“Should I put everything away, Lana? You seem.. uncharacteristically uncertain of your welcome and I don't want you to think I am not paying attention.” 

“If you don't mind, it would be appreciated.”

“Of course.” Melisande handed one of the sections of stone to Khem, who took it in his claws and laid it inside a padded storage crate, laying another piece of padding on top before taking the next piece. This process went on for several minutes, until every precious item was stowed safely. “Khem...”

The Dashade cast a surprisingly emotive look at his mistress, managing to convey significant disapproval at the implied eviction notice she was about to voice. _“I do not think that you should be alone with this woman.. she is ambitious, little Sith. You should let me devour her.”_

“I understand, Khem, and your opinions are of value to me. I will be quite safe with you outside, though. I have complete faith in your ability to decimate this tent if I should end up under attack for any reason.”

Lana arched a brow at what she could comprehend of the one-sided conversation. Nox's knowledge of obscure dialects meant that she understood her companion perfectly but virtually no one else did, which made for quite a lot of unusual remarks from the Inquisitor when she had the huge creature at her side, which was most of the time. The pair seemed nearly inseparable. Lana had never quite understood their relationship, but the monstrous Dashade was immensely protective of his mistress, and seemed to dislike literally everyone else in the galaxy. Including her, evidently, judging from the likely context of Nox's remarks. Khem left the tent a moment later, but Lana knew he wouldn't go far. No doubt he was lurking directly outside the door, on the off chance that he needed to come to the Inquisitor's aid.

“You came here tonight just to say hello?” inquired Nox curiously. She had settled down on her cushioned bedroll, her robes discarded in favor of a comfortable soft top and loose pants. The Dark Council member's feet were bare, and for the first time, Lana noted that her hair was down, though still braided, the long blonde plait laying in a coil on the covers behind her. Her blue eyes were wide and interested, gazing at Lana expectantly. 

“I did feel it was appropriate to give you a more informal greeting, given our previous associations, yes.” Lana sighed internally at herself. Why was this so hard to do? Nox was strange, but the Inquisitor had never been anything but professional and even friendly to her on Manaan and Rishi. And she'd shown no notable interest in Theron's charms during their encounters up to this point, though admittedly, he'd fallen for the Wrath's far more ..exotic.. Lethan Twi'lek charms almost instantaneously, so perhaps that was to be expected. “Why didn't you like Theron?” she blurted suddenly, and her cheeks flared bright red at having spoken her thoughts aloud to the woman across from her. “I mean.. of course you don't need to tell me anything..”

Holding up a hand to silence Lana before she melted into a puddle of embarrassment, Melisande crossed her legs comfortably, pulling her braid over her shoulder and pulling the tie from the bottom. She began unwinding the strands of the braid slowly, fingers moving dextrously. “Theron seems competent,” Nox said slowly, as if she were trying to be careful about her wording for some reason. “The Wrath, of course, has... more physical appetites than I. But Theron is not my type, regardless.”

Lana looked faintly surprised at this answer, watching as Nox loosened her hair, combing the heavy wavy mass into smoothness with curved fingers. “He's not your type?” she echoed, realizing she sounded ridiculous but unable to prevent her weirdly tongue-tied responses in the least. “I.. hadn't realized. Is it because of your work? I cannot imagine that involving yourself with a Republic aligned spy would be at all safe.. the Council, and all.”

“It would be a risk, I suppose. But that's not the reason why. He's just not someone who interests me.” Melisande shrugged fluidly, her hands coming to rest on her bent knees. Her expression was amused and revealed nothing; not for the first time, Lana realized that the Dark Council member gave nothing away without reason, even in so simple a way as an unexpected smile, or frown, or even an eyeroll. “Theron Shan has nothing that I desire. I prefer people that have a similar understanding of the nature of the world. Ones that I can talk to and that live in the same galaxy. The offspring of Jedi do not really fall in that category, Lana.” 

“I suppose that makes a certain kind of sense, Darth Nox.”

“Melisande. Save the Darth Nox thing for the Republic. I enjoy watching them squirm at the mention of my title, but I think you and I are past the need for so much formality. One might even call us tentative friends, hmm?” 

“I would like to think so, D.. Melisande. Are you saying that you prefer other Sith, then?” Lana's yellow-eyed gaze was intent, invested in the response, and Nox laughed, a merry peal of sound. 

“Of course. You can't pretend that you don't have the same preference. Who else is going to understand the things we do? The choices we make?”

“I wouldn't say I necessarily prefer other Sith,” Lana answered slowly.

“Just one, then?” Nox's large, dark-lashed blue eyes looked innocent still, but Lana saw a predatory intelligence in the clear cerulean depths, a look of absolute calculation that was only visible for the merest of moments before it vanished, replaced so authentically with an inviting, curious openness that she doubted that she'd actually seen it at all. Maybe she just expected calculation and manipulation from her fellow Sith; and with good reason, particularly when it came to a Dark Council member who had risen to that stratospheric level at blistering, and brutal, speed. It would be foolish in the extreme to believe that this sweet facade was the real Melisande. 

But... one never did really know. Not for certain.

Lana knew that she had moved first, but somehow, Nox.. no, Melisande.. was in charge of the situation almost instantly. Her hands were cupping her jaw, holding Lana's waist, pulling her firmly against her, and the diminutive Inquisitor's lips were in control of the passionate, pulse-pounding kiss. Nothing had ever felt like this. She knew what people thought of her in Sith social circles; too pragmatic, efficient, lacking in real passion. But now, here, Lana felt a sense of exultation sweep through her at the sure and certain knowledge that everyone, including herself, had been completely wrong. 

Melisande guided Lana to the soft bedroll, stretching out beside her gracefully. Lana could not remember ever having heard rumors about Nox's social life, or about any affairs of the heart.. or of the body, for that matter. There were rumors about her close relationship with Darth Marr, but it seemed both insane and ludicrous to attach any romantic notions to Marr. However, she would have said the same thing about the bookish, scholarly, absent-minded Nox as well up until this very moment. If she'd been capable of much rational thought, Lana felt certain she would have been very intrigued about the idea of a liaison between the two Dark Council members. But as Melisande's hair swung down to veil them both from view and the light in the tent went out, Lana stopped worrying about anything but enjoying the moment. 

Meanwhile, outside the tent, Khem Val folded his massive arms across his chest, silently standing guard in the darkness.


	9. Don't Electrocute the Republic Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana discovers the reason for the ever-present gloves.
> 
> Nox is Nox-y.
> 
> Khem has opinions.
> 
> The gizka doesn't like Lana, but does like Marr. This is probably proof that he's a pile of gizkas.
> 
> Satele is Jedi-y.

Waking early was a habit that Lana had learned long ago, and she never could quite shake it, even when she wanted nothing more than to remain in bed and spend a lazy morning. Nox was still asleep, with her face turned away from Lana, her long hair plaited loosely into a braided rope that lay atop the covers. Her arms were on top of the covers too, and she could see something now, in the light of dawn, that she had missed last night in the darkened tent. 

Slender, delicate fingers and hands were wreathed with scars. The damage tangled around each finger and over her palms, puckering skin on the backs of her hands and twining up her forearms. Lana stared in fascination, trying to think of what could have caused such extensive wounds, and on such an exalted person as a Dark Council member. She remembered hearing that Nox's beginnings were quite a bit more humble, but despite their association since the attacks on Tython and Korriban, the Inquisitor had never seemed very interested in discussing her history. The only past she appeared to care about was the ancient Sith bloodlines and histories that she spent all of her time researching. 

Thinking back, Lana realized she had never seen Nox this informally attired. Even in the occasionally ridiculous outfits that she liked to sport, the diminutive Sith always wore elbow-length gloves, and never a bare patch of skin below the neck. It wasn't terribly unusual for Inquisitors to choose to dress very conservatively in a general sense. Their styles were sometimes wild or very ornate, but rarely risque in any way. But Nox seemed to take being covered up extremely seriously, and as she looked at the scars and wondered how many more were on the rest of her body, Lana understood why she preferred to hide herself from view. If her background was as lowly as rumor had it, she would not wish for people to be reminded of it every time they looked at her. 

Nox stirred, yawning, and pulled her arms under the covers before snaking one hand out to find her gloves. “You should have woken me up,” she said, another yawn punctuating her words. The blanket hunched up beside her, then moved, the lump moving upwards until the red and black head of her favorite gizka appeared, the weird little creature echoing its mistress' yawn before hissing at Lana threateningly. “I am sure that Darth Marr has been awake for... well.. I have a private belief that he never sleeps, so he's probably been awake all night terrifying all the soldiers and waiting for us so he can give us more tasks. During which he will stand at the conference table and look intimidating, and Grandmaster Shan will stand at the conference table and look serene.” Melisande rolled her eyes expressively, loosening her braid and combing out the long hair with her gloved fingers. “Like a pair of unmatched bookends, those two.”

Lana couldn't help but laugh at the characterization. “I'd never thought about it, but now that you mention it, I don't think I remember ever being told that Darth Marr was sleeping when I needed to speak to him.” 

Nox pulled a fresh set of clothing from her pack, and got out of bed. The odd image of her wearing only the elbow-length gloves and her loosened hair down her back was certainly noteworthy to Lana, but she knew better than to presume upon their night together to assume that Nox would want to discuss the reason she was so self-conscious about her arms. Their flirtation over the last few months had been haphazard, and always at Nox's instigation; if Lana attempted to flirt with her first, or hint at a desire for anything more than their working relationship, Nox merely pretended not to hear it, or changed the subject. 

She watched the other woman dress in layer after layer of black clothing, discarding the ruined boots and finding another pair stuffed halfway under the sack that she'd used for the found artifacts. When Melisande dug out a wide-toothed comb, clearly intending to put some order to her hair, Lana took it from her without a word and began working through the tangles in the hip length blonde strands, smoothing it out. She parted it down the middle, and both of them took a section, braiding it to the ends, and then Lana watched as Nox wrapped the braids around the crown of her head neatly and pinned them into place. “Are you worried about dealing with Revan? Or how we're going to get both sides to work together? That seems a more insurmountable barrier than even the Revan issue.”

Nox smiled, her blue eyes amused. “Of course not. There will be some acceptable level of losses, I'm certain, but Darth Marr will see that we do not lose more than we must. And the Republic will fall into line. Their lack of discipline is regrettable and tedious, but we will show them how it's done, won't we?” Her gloved hands cupped Lana's face, and she kissed her briefly. “I can always just zap them, if they won't behave.” She pulled her hands back, and a purple jag of lightning arced between her fingertips in demonstration. 

“I don't think that would be well-received at all,” Lana demurred. “Although it would perhaps be fairly amusing to see.” She dressed efficiently as Nox took her saberstaff hilt and hung it from her belt, exiting the tent. She could hear the Inquisitor outside, talking to her monstrous guardian, Khem Val.

“Of course you don't need boots. Look at your feet. Who would be able to make boots to fit them? That's a ridiculous idea.” Nox scoffed, and Khem grumbled something in return. “You could have stopped me from stepping in that puddle, though, and you just watched me sink in it. It was rude.” More rumbling commentary from the Dashade followed, and Nox laughed. “That will have to wait. I have too much to do right now.” Lana emerged from the tent, and Nox bounced on her toes, pulling her voluminous dark hood up over her bright golden hair, shading much of her doll-like features from easy view. “Alright, let's see what Darth Grumpy has for us today! … And by us, I mean me, because we all know it'll be me doing the work.”

Khem Val said something unintelligible to his diminutive mistress, and Lana added, “I work, just not in the field, Darth Nox. We can't all be like you.”

“Yes, yes, Khem, you help me. Of course you do. You don't need to be so sulky. I value your contributions immensely. How would I reach things over my head if I didn't have you? And Lana, I value your useful directions immensely, you know that I do.” Nox led the way towards the brain center of the joint task force, her strides almost absurdly light and buoyant. It took Lana a moment to realize that the gizka was trundling along in Nox's wake, biting at the edges of her long robe. But the gizka noticed Lana's interest almost immediately, and hissed furiously at her.

“Darth Marr!” Nox bellowed as they came within eyesight of the gathering around the table. Lana flinched internally at the volume of her greeting, half expecting the massive warrior to take offense. “Behold, I am ready to do battle with more mud that will ruin my second-best boots. And whatever else should be out there ready to assault me.” 

Marr sighed visibly, his heavily armored shoulders lifting and falling with the metallic exhalation of breath. It looked distinctly to Lana as if he was girding his loins metaphorically in order to deal with the Inquisitor's moods. “Good morning, Darth Nox. Now that you're here, we can get started. We've discovered that there is a training facility for the Imperial Guard among the ruins, and I would like for you to investigate it immediately. There are quite a few Revanites in the way, so be on your guard and prepare for resistance.” 

“Kill all the Revanites, pull down the training facility on top of the Imperial Guard, kill all the Imperial Guard... perhaps that should be done -before- pulling down the facility,” Nox amended, making invisible tick marks in the air with one gloved fingertip. Marr's expression was, of course, unreadable, but somehow he still managed to radiate annoyance mixed with tired acceptance, and Satele Shan's expression was equally bland, though Lana could have sworn that there was a glimmer of amusement in the Jedi's blue-grey eyes. “Don't worry. I'll improvise if the plan seems faulty in execution.”

“Do not kill them all, Nox. We need to speak to them and see if they have any intelligence regarding the Emperor's aims, or Revan's presence on the moon,” Marr corrected firmly.

“Negotiation is always an option, rather than combat,” offered Satele, but she didn't seem surprised when Nox laughed.

“Oh. You were serious. My apologies. Right, I'll try tea and persuasion, Grandmaster. But if I get a electrostaff upside the head for my trouble, I will be very put out.”

“Understandably. Even so, it is not always necessary to lead with violence.”

Nox turned towards Marr, her dark hood tilting upwards towards his face so that he could see her expression. From Lana's vantage point just to Marr's left, she saw Melisande roll her eyes in a hugely exaggerated gesture of mockery. “I'll take that under very serious consideration, Grandmaster, thank you,” she said sweetly, and spun on her heel, heading down the stairs. Khem fell in silently behind her, his hulking presence looming over her slight, robed form. The gizka, however, remained behind, eyeing Darth Marr hopefully, its overly large head tilted. 

“Feed it. It looks hungry,” he told one of the technicians nearby, his tone of voice implacable, and the man scrambled to obey the surprising request. 

Lana hid an amused smile, bending her head to her computer terminal.


End file.
